Miguel Hernandez Poems
To The International Soldier Fallen In Spain
If there are men who contain a soul without frontiers,
a brow scattered with universal hair,
covered with horizons, ships, and mountain chains,
with sand and with snow, then you are one of those.
Fatherlands called to you with all their banners,
so that your breath filled with beautiful movements.
You wanted to quench the thirst of panthers
and fluttered full against their abuses.
With a taste of all suns and seas,
Spain beckons you because in her you realize
your majesty like a tree that embraces a continent.
Around your bones, the olive groves ...
For un-feathering the glacial archangels,
the barbed-lily snowfall of slender teeth
is condemned to the weeping of fountains
and the sadness of well-springs.
For diffusing its soul into metal,
for the fire to grant its sunrise to iron,
the torrential blacksmiths’ draw it
to the sorrow of harsh anvils.
To the painful sting of the thorn,